


Good Tidings

by Thistlerose



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Holidays, Multi, Shippy Gen, Vignette, Yuletide 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA "How I Spent My Winter Vacation" by the Justice League</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Tidings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elissanerdwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissanerdwriter/gifts).



> This is set sometime between the end of "Starcrossed" and "Raise the Dead." In spirit, it's a sequel to "Comfort and Joy."

I.

The Watchtower was unusually empty and quiet as J'onn made his way down the long corridors. It was a relief, almost a reprieve. For months, now, it seemed like the Justice League had been adding a new hero to its ranks on a daily basis. Their numbers had swelled since the Thanagarian invasion, which was good for thwarting criminal masterminds and their ilk, less good if you were a telepath who, when not deeply focused on some task, could pick up on every stray thought or emotion.

As the de facto leader of the Justice League, of course it was useful for J'onn to know what his teammates were thinking, especially the ones who were hesitant to approach him with their concerns because they weren't part of the original seven, or because they thought their superpowers were weird or pointless. But there were some things he just didn't need to know, like Green Arrow's many thoughts on Black Canary's stockings, or which cartoon theme song the Flash had stuck in his head at any given moment.

Quiet was good. J'onn had missed the quiet, and he was looking forward to a few days in Smallville with Clark and his adoptive family. He only hoped the short vacation would act as a restorative, that he'd want to return to the Watchtower after the holiday.

J'onn stopped walking when he reached Diana's door, and knocked politely. "It's me," he said after a moment's silence. Then, perhaps unnecessarily, "J'onn J'onzz."

The door slid open to reveal Diana dressed to go out: instead of her customary armor, she wore a silver sheath dress, with a gray silk shawl draped loosely about her bare upper arms. She smiled apologetically as she adjusted one of her sparkling earrings. "Sorry, J'onn. Is everything all right?"

"Everything is … calm," he decided was the best description. "I have left Batman in charge."

"It's a holiday tradition," she said dryly. "One of these days, I swear, when he least suspects it…" Her lips curved, and J'onn caught a glimpse of what she had in mind: Batman without his mask, willingly and happily snared by her golden lasso.

"Ah--" J'onn began, somewhat at a loss.

"Oops!" Once more, Diana flashed him an apologetic smile. "Actually," she said quickly, "that wasn't what I meant. I meant, are _you_ all right? You seem … I don't know. You're a tough one to read, but at a guess I'd say you seem unsure about something. Shouldn't you be on your way to Clark's?"

"Yes," he said. "And, yes. I am all right, and I am on my way to visit the Kents. I only thought … I wanted to get your opinion on something, since I believe you know … the Kents." What he'd almost said was, _as well as anyone in the Justice League._ "I trust your honesty." He lifted the large red and green gift bag he'd been carrying and tipped it toward her so she could see what was inside. "Is this an appropriate Christmas present? Last year, I did not have time to purchase anything. The Kents were very gracious and told me it didn't matter, but this year it seemed polite…"

"It's lovely." Diana reached out a hand and brushed aside some of the layers of tissue paper so she could feel how soft the throw blanket was. "Merino?" she guessed. "It's lovely. They'll love it. Though, really, most of the time, a bottle of wine-- It's perfect," she said firmly.

"You are sure?" The truth was, he'd thought about bringing a bottle of good wine, or a fruit basket - he'd done some research - but both had struck him as impersonal, uninteresting. Martha Kent had given him a handknit _sweater_ last year. The blanket, he reasoned, was something along the same lines - attractive, functional, seasonally appropriate - and not, he hoped self-consciously, too extravagant.

"It's perfect," Diana assured him again. "Jonathan and Martha will love it."

"Good," said J'onn, lowering his arm back to his side. "Thank you." He turned to leave, then paused for a moment while Diana waited in the doorway, one slim black eyebrow cocked expectantly, as if she knew there was one more thing on the tip of his tongue. At length he said, "Happy holidays. I do not know which one you celebrate - if any."

Diana tipped her head thoughtfully to one side; her earring caught the light, twinkling briefly like a star against her dark hair. She said musingly, "You know, I think I've tried nearly all of them since I came to Man's World. Not that I've told my gods back home … or my mother." Her voice dropped low on the last word, and J'onn nodded slowly in sympathy; he knew that she had had no contact with Themyscira, including her mother the queen, since her banishment. 

"And what did you do before you came here?" he prompted gently.

"Well, traditionally, we would celebrate the rebirth of Dionysus around this time of year. Which meant a lot of drinking and a lot of theater. The Amazons are warriors, but we have hobbies too. Some of us are playwrights, and we had wonderful competitions…" Diana's eyes went a little distant as she remembered, and once more, J'onn caught a flash of her thought: this time it was the memory of a marble amphitheater gleaming under moonlight and torchlight, its tiered seats filled with women - beautiful, athletic women, some in armor - who drank wine from wide, shallow bowls and laughed uproariously at whatever was happening on the stage below. 

"It sounds wonderful," J'onn said.

"It was," agreed Diana. "It's the reason I'm off to the theater tonight. I'm finally seeing _Les Misérables._ "

"I don't think that that's a comedy…"

"It doesn't have to be. Anyway--"

"Forgive me, I am holding you up," said J'onn, chagrined but partly relieved; this talked had helped allay some of his uncertainties, but if it went on much longer she was more than likely to ask him about celebrations on Mars. If he were to talk about that with anyone, he supposed it would be her: in some ways, she was more alien than Superman, who'd been raised in this world. But he didn't want to talk about it now.

"Not at all," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm glad you stopped by. Tell the Kents I said Merry Christmas."

"I shall."

"Don't let their cat bully you."

"We reached an understanding last year." In addition to the blanket he'd also bought a small catnip toy, but he hadn't felt the need for anyone's approval on that.

"Ah." Diana's smile returned and her eyes flashed with mischief. "If there's wine, raise a glass for me."

"I shall," he said again, with genuine warmth.

II.

Wally rang GL's doorbell, then stepped back a pace and waited, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. A minute or so went by, and in that brief span of time, the sky turned a shade darker, the wind a touch stronger. Behind him, one of the pizza delivery guys shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, and for the first time since he'd hatched this little scheme in his kitchen yesterday morning, Wally experienced a pang of uncertainty. He should've called ahead. What if GL wasn't home? What if he _was_ home, but he already had company over? What if he was home and didn't have anyone over because he didn't feel like dealing with the outside world?

Telling himself that he wasn't part of the outside world, at least where his friend was concerned, Wally raised his hand to ring the bell again. Right at that moment, though, he heard a crackle of static over the intercom, and then GL's voice saying, "Who is it?"

He sounded touchy, even over the intercom, but Wally couldn't help bursting out ebulliently, "Santa!"

There was a long silence. "Uh," said one of the pizza guys, "he was expecting you … right?"

"Oh, sure!" Wally lied blithely. Actually, he told himself as he tucked his chin into his scarf for warmth, it wasn't a total lie. When you're feeling down because your girlfriend betrayed you and the world almost got destroyed by aliens, you _should_ expect your best friend to come by to cheer you up, especially on Christmas.

"It's just--"

But then Wally heard footsteps in the foyer and the sound of a bolt being turned. A second later the door opened - was it Wally's imagination or the wind, or did he actually hear a resigned sigh? - and there stood GL in all his downtrodden glory: street clothes, stubbled jawline, arms crossed warily over his wide chest. "Where's your red suit, _Santa_?" he drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

"You've known my secret identity for a while."

"Uh-huh. And what's all this?" GL poked his chin in the direction of the three pizza guys waiting at the bottom of the steps. Wally watched his eyes narrow as he silently counted the boxes each one was carrying. At length he said warningly, "This isn't some kind of surprise party, is it? 'Cause I'm really not…"

"Nope, just us," said Wally quickly. He pointed to the large duffel bag lying at his feet. "I just thought you might want company, so I brought over a pack of cards, a couple'a board games, some DVDs … and food. Don't worry, I'll eat most of it." 

He could picture the pizza guys exchanging a dubious look. Wally kept his eyes on GL. Green eyes bored into green, and Wally found himself wishing for once that he had J'onn's telepathic powers as he thought, _Give in. You're no match for my holiday cheer, or the smell of hot, delicious pizza. Man, I hope it's still hot. Hey, it's getting colder the longer you stand there and glare! Mmmm, smell that sausage and pepperoni. C'mon, man. It's freezing out here!_ Well, he didn't need telepathy to convey that last part; even in the darkening twilight GL could no doubt see Wally shivering in his parka, the way he shifted from one foot to the other to try to keep his toes from going numb. Finally, with a shake of his head, John lowered his arms and said, "All right, you can come in. Bring the food. I assume you paid for it already."

"Never assume," Wally began. "C'mon, of course I did," he added, faster than GL's mouth could form a scowl. "The tip too. I'm wonderful."

 

Roughly forty minutes, seven slices of pizza, and three hands of poker later, Wally was feeling pretty well thawed out. He was slouched in GL's big, comfortable leather armchair, his feet propped up on the ottoman. By now it was completely dark outside, but he could hear the wind blowing through the bare trees. He wondered if it had started to snow yet. He'd check, he decided, next time he had to get up to use the little superhero's room. Meantime, he kind of didn't want to move at all. He stole a glance at GL, over on the sofa. His friend was studying his cards and he didn't look up when Wally said, "You should've come to the orphanage with me this afternoon. It would've been fun. The kids are amazing, they drew me this--"

"Uh-huh. Maybe next year."

"Seriously, these kids, man--"

"I'm sure." He said it absently, like his mind was somewhere else.

Wally frowned. "Look," he said after a moment, "I get it, you're depressed. Last year you were making snow angels and getting into epic bar fights with - you know, her…"

"You can say her name."

"Fine. Shayera. And now you're … depressed."

"I'll get over it. Look, it's not affecting my League work, is it?"

The question was clearly rhetorical, but Wally said, "No…"

"Then what does it matter?"

Wally stared at him. "It _matters._ I'm not here 'cause of the League."

GL looked up from his cards. He seemed startled, like he'd forgotten that Wally could occasionally be serious, and his brows pinched together in what might have been chagrin. "Sorry," he said finally. His jaw twitched as if there was more he wanted to say, and his glance flicked from Wally's face, down to his cards and back up again. 

Whatever it was he was having trouble articulating, it was obviously complimentary, Wally thought. So, because of that and because it was Christmas and because he was who he was, he decided to help his pal out. "Admit it," he said, holding his cards close to his chest so GL couldn't peek while he reached for an eighth slice of pizza. "When I showed up your doorstep, you were glad to see me."

"I was getting hungry," GL said with a wry smile.

III.

Oliver was running late so he decided to cut across the park. It had been snowing for about an hour now, but not heavily; he could still see the lights of the city - the lit windows, the street lights, and headlights, as well as the tiny holiday lights - through the trees and the falling flakes. Snow on Christmas had never seemed that magical to him. Growing up, there'd always been snow on Christmas, or at least the day after, when he and his family flew to Vail for their annual ski vacation. It was just _there_ , already on the ground where it was supposed to be, nothing surprising about it.

Now that he was an adult and a superhero, with neither the time nor the inclination to run off to a mountain resort … nah, it still wasn't all that magical, he thought with a cynical grin. Just frozen water. Still… He noticed the way the snowflakes blazed as they fell across the street lamps' beams: just for a second, like embers, before they disappeared in shadow. 

_Okay, that's kind of pretty._

_Help, I'm turning into a sap. Better call the Justice League!_

It was because he was on his way to meet Dinah, he thought. She and her stockings did things to his brain, made him want to take uncharacteristic actions like agree to join the Justice League, or make sappy, romantic observations about Christmas and snow - at least in the privacy of his own mind. Not that any of it was _her_ fault, he acknowledged.

Oliver noticed the protesters almost as soon as he came within sight of the fountain by the park's east gate. He counted at least a dozen people, faces and bodies obscured by scarves, hats, and bulky jackets. He couldn't quite make out the lettering on their signs, and he couldn't hear what they were saying. Whatever they were doing, they hadn't quite kicked it off yet, he figured. 

Curiosity tugged at him. Telling himself he was already late and that Dinah wouldn't mind waiting an extra couple of minutes, he altered his course. They looked up as he approached. One of them, a woman in a puffy gray jacket, whose dark curls poked out from under her knit hat, slid down from her perch on the edge of the fountain and took a couple of steps toward him. She couldn't possibly recognize him in his street clothes; he was just a random passerby to her. There was nothing confrontational in her manner; rather, Oliver thought, she was simply presenting herself as the group's leader. Or its spokeswoman, anyway.

"Merry Christmas," he said politely.

"Merry Christmas," she replied in kind.

"What's all this?" He nodded at the group behind her.

"Oh," she said with a quick glance over her shoulder, "it's just something we do every Christmas. We're trying to raise awareness. Once everyone's here - we're still missing like three people - we're going to move somewhere people can actually see us. We're not trying to get in people's faces," she added, though Oliver's expression hadn't changed at all, "at least not tonight. It's Christmas, after all. But we feel like, it can't hurt to remind people that not everyone's as fortunate as us." 

She tilted her sign up to show him. _OVER 3 BILLION PEOPLE LIVE ON LESS THAN $2.50 A DAY_ was written in block letters. 

"That's less than a single subway ride," she said when he met her eyes again.

"I know."

She was looking up at him earnestly, though there was something guarded about her stance, like she was waiting for him to either mock her, or lecture her, or simply nod politely and hurry on his way.

"I'm Oliver," he said.

She looked startled for about half a second. Then she said slowly, "Eliza."

"Eliza. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"How long do you stay out here? It's pretty cold."

"Yes, it is." She shrugged. "I don't know. A couple of hours, unless people really start to freeze. I told them all to bundle up, but… It _is_ cold. But if we can tough it out until nine… That's when we're all volunteering at a soup kitchen."

"Really?"

 _Dinah's waiting_ , Oliver thought. _You have reservations which you are going to lose if you don't hurry._ The snow was falling more heavily now; it swirled around the fountain and the small group of people already huddling close for warmth.

"Really," said Eliza, and he heard a challenging note in her tone, soft but clear as a bell.

"You know," he began but she interrupted.

"I'm sorry, but if you're going to lecture--"

"I wasn't," said Oliver. "I was just going to ask--" _What?_ he thought. _If I can join you?_ He didn't think she would say no, but she might think he was crazy. It _was_ a pretty crazy idea, he acknowledged, but it lodged itself deep in his gut. _Come on,_ said the voice of reason - which sounded a lot like his own voice, as he so often _was_ the Justice League's voice of reason - _being a superhero doesn't preclude taking a night off once in a while. Isn't it_ good _to see people trying to fix things themselves? Nobody's going to give them a hard time on Christmas._

He'd been quiet for too long. Now Eliza really was looking at him like he was crazy, and some of her friends were starting to get fidgety, like they were starting to wonder if maybe their leader needed some backup. A few of them raised their cell phones, no doubt getting ready to film if needed.

"Look," Eliza said, "you look like you're on your way to someplace nice." Her hand-wave encompassed his long woolen coat, his cashmere scarf, and leather gloves. "Like I said, we're just raising awareness. We're not trying to _guilt_ people. Just remember that not everyone's so fortunate, and if you have the opportunity to make a difference, take it. Give your waitress a really good tip."

He _meant_ to leave. He really did. He managed to get halfway up the next block before he stopped, swore under his breath, and raised a hand to touch the comm link in his ear. "Hey, Dinah?" he said.

IV.

J'onn's offering pleased the Kents' cat. He couldn't always sense the emotions of animals - cats in particular gave him difficulty - but he thought her reaction spoke for itself. At the first whiff of catnip she gave a demented _mrrowl!_ and very nearly drew blood as she whacked the felt mouse out of his hand with her claws. He watched her bat the toy around the living room, occasionally catching it up in her paws and flopping onto her back to writhe and purr luxuriantly. Clark, Martha, and Jonathan laughed at any rate.

J'onn placed the Kents' gift under their beautifully trimmed Christmas tree, pushing it behind some of the other brightly wrapped boxes and gift bags so that it didn't stand out. He still had his doubts, despite Diana's reassurances. But as he climbed back to his feet, Clark very deliberately caught his eye and offered him a furtive thumbs up.

J'onn felt foolish for a moment. But Clark was grinning and offering him a glass of eggnog. J'onn took it and as he did, the last of his anxiety melted away.

V.

Eliza and her crew were getting ready to move to a more prominent location when Dinah showed up, a box of coffee in either hand. Oliver would have waved, but he also had his arms full. It didn't matter: she saw him and started to walk a little faster, her heels clicking against the pavement. As she drew near, he saw her expression, saw the way her lips twitched, and honestly could not tell if she was wrestling with rage or laughter. Sounding quite serious, she said, "I should've kept the reservation and just called up Helena. That would've served you right."

"But you're here," Oliver pointed out.

"Yeah." She flicked back her hair, which caught the lamplight and blazed like the snowflakes. "I'm here. Just so we're clear, you owe me a drink. And dessert. I want lots and lots of dessert, Queen."

"There's a bag of cinnamon scones in my pocket."

"Not gonna cut it."

"Then I guess I owe you. Shall we?" He offered her his elbow. She couldn't take it, but she bumped it with her own and, elbow-to-elbow, they went to join the others.

VI.

Wally fell asleep halfway through _It's a Wonderful Life._ John noticed when he started to snore, quietly reached for the remote, and turned off the TV. In all honesty, he'd been ready for bed hours ago, but he'd felt bad about kicking Wally out. It had been very thoughtful of him to come by with his pizza and his cards and his movies. And his good cheer, John mused, looking down at his friends slack features. Though it was sometimes exhausting, even exasperating, it was worth a lot more than the rest.

With a sigh, John levered himself to his feet. The last two pizzas needed to go in the fridge, before he forgot and fell asleep. Hopefully Wally would want to eat them for breakfast, since there wasn't much else in the apartment, food-wise. John started toward the kitchen and almost tripped over something half-hidden by shadows on the floor. Looking down, he saw that it was Wally's duffel bag. He was about to toe it carefully out of the way, when something caught his eye.

It was a Christmas card made out of green poster board, cut in the shape of an evergreen tree and decorated with glitter, stickers, and a random scattering of sequins. 

_The kids are amazing,_ Wally had said earlier. _They drew me this…_

And then John had cut him off. He couldn't remember why. Curious, sure that Wally wouldn't mind, he bent and plucked the card out of the duffel bag. On the inside, in neat lettering, an adult had written, _Thank you, Flash! We love you!_ And all the kids had signed it, and drawn little doodles in crayon.

John looked again at Wally, then back at the card. He felt the smile, unbidden, tugging at the corners of his mouth. Under his breath he muttered, "And what happened next, well, in Whoville they say…" 

Then he went in search of his own crayon.

VII.

It was after midnight when Diana returned to the Watchtower, but she wasn't at all surprised to find Bruce still on monitor duty. He had his feet up on the console and his fingers laced behind his head, but she knew he was completely alert. Noting the empty carafe and coffee cup on the floor by his chair, she drawled, "Silent night?"

"Hardly," Bruce said without turning his head. "But everything's being handled. How was the show?"

"Very stirring," said Diana. "The ending was more uplifting than I would have thought, given the title and what I knew of the plot."

"Doesn't everyone die at the end?"

"Almost everyone. But you're left with the sense that justice will prevail someday. And, to be honest, I like a good tragedy, at least on the stage."

"I'm not surprised," said Bruce. "You probably knew Euripides and Sophocles personally."

"Personally?" Diana said with a small smirk, which she knew he couldn't see. "No, but some of my sisters did." She wondered if he thought she was teasing. 

"Well," he said after a couple of silent beats, "I'm glad you had a good time."

Diana opened her mouth, then closed it. She'd been about to say _thanks,_ but she knew it would have come out sarcastically. She thought, _I should have brought a bottle of wine,_ then remembered that he never drank while in costume. Biting at her lower lip, suddenly glad that he couldn't see her, she thought, _What does it take to get a rise out of you? Sometimes it seems I have to be in mortal danger, and I'm sorry, but I just don't feel like it tonight._

Bruce's voice rustled through the quiet: "Diana." He lowered his arms and legs and sat upright in his chair, pointing at one of the monitors in front of him. "Come look at this." 

There was urgency in his tone, but no alarm. Curious, she came to stand behind him and followed his finger with her glance. The screen showed the Earth from space. Over the planet's shoulder, the aurora borealis wove like a ribbon of green flame; stars glittered icily in the blackness all around it. 

"It's beautiful," Diana said softly, after a moment of reverent silence, leaning against the back of Bruce's chair. When he didn't respond, she glanced quickly down at him. Half-hidden by his mask, his face was difficult to read; she thought there might be something about his mouth, a softness that hadn't been there before. But it was probably just the lighting, or her wistful imagination.

"So, what are you doing for New Years?" she asked. "Let me guess, same bat time, same bat place?"

"Actually," said Bruce, "Wayne Enterprises is holding a fundraiser for Graham Windham. It's a social services organization. They do a lot of work with children."

"Oh," Diana said, surprised but rather pleased. "That's lovely."

Bruce nodded. "It's black tie, but some of the children and their families will be there." His eyes still on the aurora, he added casually, "Some of them would probably like to see a warrior princess."

"Oh?"

"There'll be music. And dancing."

"That's interesting, because I know someone who owes me a dance."

With polite detachment: "Do you?"

"You know," said Diana, fighting the urge to give his bat ears a flick, "that almost sounds like an invitation."

"Does it?" he said innocently.

Diana smiled.


End file.
